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A MELO-DRAMA 



IN THREE ACTS, 



By FREDERICK DITTMANN. 




PHILADELPHIA, 

Reen & Trump, Printers, io North Fourth St., 

1873. 




r- 



LET US HAVE PEACE 



o- 



A MELO-DRAMA 



IN THREE ACTS, 



By FREDERICK DITTMANN, 



PHILADELPHIA, 1873. 



Entered according to Act of Congress in the year one thousand eight 
hundred and seventy-three, by 

FREDERICK D1TTMANN. 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



TMP92-009109 



DRAMATIS PERSONVK: 

Colonel Norwood, a wealthy farmer, formerly Colonel of 
Volunteers. 

William, his Son. 

John, an old Sergeant. 

Mr. Hughes, a Professor of Languages. 

Mrs. Hughes, his Wife. 

Lenora, his Daughter. 

Richard Norton. 

Miss Southworth, a Virginia Lady, 

James, her Servant. A Negro. 

The Sexton. A Spy. A Grave Digger. Soldiers — 



The scenes of the first and third acts are in a Village in 
Western Pennsylvania. 

The scene of the second act in Virginia, 



Time : first act June, 1863. 

" second " Nov. 1863. 

third " May, 1865. 



ACT I. 

WE ARE COMING FATHER ABRA'AM. 



Scene I. A room in Col. Norwood's house* 
Col. Norwood, John. 

Col Norwood sitting in an arm chair at a table cov- 
ered with papers. John enters with newspapers in 
his hand. 

John. Here, Col., are the morning papers — Great news! At 

the Post Office all is excitement ! Read ! Read ! 
Col. No bad news, I hope — let's see ! (reads.) 

"Harrisburg, June 15th, 1863. 

Lieutenant Palmer of the Purnell Cavalry has just 
come in, having fought his way from two miles this side of Green- 
castle. He reports the enemy advancing in three columns, one 
towards Waynesburg, one towards Mercersburg, and one to- 
Avards Chambersburg, other bodies are reported to be moving 
through the mountains making altogether six seperate columns." 
And here what do I see ? A proclamation by the President 
of the United States, and here another from the Governor of 
Pennsylvania, for the turning out of the militia, and more troops. 
Col. John, I forget almost my old age and my infirmity — 
That it should come to this ! Our Union army defeated ! 
The Rebels invading our old state ! Oh ! If I were 
only ten — aye — five years younger ! Every good citi- 
zen — aye ! moreover every soldier *nust feel the disgrace. 
John. And I am tired reading of fighting — Whenever there 
was fighting to be done, I always wanted to have my 
hand in it, and to do my share of it; I shall go at once 
and enlist. 
Col. Are you, a born fool, John ? Why the wounds which 
you received at Wilson's Creek are not healed — and 
perhaps never will be. 
John. Makes no diiference ! The old Doctor has put so many 
plasters on it that, I think the skin will keep together. 
For an old soldier like me, it would be a shame to stay 
at home in such times as these. 
Col. Brave fellow ! Would to God my William had a little 
of your spirit. 



John. That is even so. but the Devil knows — pardon, Col. the 
profane expression — what's got into the boy. He comes 
from a family whose bravery is hereditary — springs di- 
rectly from old revolutionary stock — and he is — he is, 
what shall I say ? he is so — utterly wanting in martial 
spirit — still I don't think he is a coward. 

Col. Where is he again ? 

John. Why, where he always is — squandering his time in the 
woods, a hunting and giving himself over to foolish 
dreams. 

Col. Dreams ? What dreams ? 

John. Dreams ! of course — love dreams — (aside) that was a slip 
of the tongue. 

Col. Love dreams ? — are you crazy, John ? 

John. Maybe a little. 

Col. Whom should he love ? There is no lady in our whole 
congregation — suitable to him in age — nor otherwise. 

John. And if she were not of the congregation, she might be 
handsome nevertheless. 

Col, Nonsense, John ? we are of old Puritan stock and Will- 
iam would never bestow his hand upon a papist. But 
you make me feel uneasy — do you know something? 
speak out ! 

John. I know something ? God forbid ! T only made the re- 
mark without — but there comes William himself. 



Scene II. Enters William. 

Col. Where did you stay so long ? The sun is setting, what 
are you doing so late in the woods and alone ? 

Will. I was standing by the brook — where I love to tarry to 
give myself up to meditation. 

Col. Here, my boy, I am very much dissatisfied with you. 

Will. Certainly not more so, than I am, father, myself. 

Col. It depends upon you, whether you will satisfy us both. 
The cause of our country, of the Union at this present 
moment, looks gloomy. Look at this paper ! Pennsyl- 
vania invaded ! The capitol of the nation threatened ! 
All the glories of our past history seem to be darkened 
and over shadowed with our disgrace. The eyes of the 
whole civilized world are fixed upon us. The enemies 
of republican institutions everywhere are hailing every 



6 

success of the rebel army as a harbinger of the down 
fall of the Republic, and an overthrow of the Union. 
But the loyal people will not so easily abandon what is 
sacred to them Me thinks I hear a stentorian voice 
through the whole extent of this mighty land, that the 
Union shall and must be maintained. Everywhere 
people rush to arms — for the more desperate our cause 
becomes the more determined the American people are 
to uphold it. I, alas ! am infirm and old— I forsooth ! 
have to stay here and in this arm chair moan over the 
reverses. But look at John ! He lias not fully recovered 
from the wounds which he received at Wilson's Creek 
and now he is ready to join the first Company which 
goes to the front. 

John. Yes, and this night. 

Cot,. And you ! Shame upon you I My son is too big a cow- 
ard to fight against the enemies of his Country and 
strolls about shooting rabbits. 

John. Now, If that don't fetch him ! I don't know what will. 

Will. 0, Father, how you misapprehend me ! If you only 
knew what makes me tarry. 

Col. Silence ! no excuse for an American, and one to the "ma- 
nor born" like yourself, of good health and sound limbs 
no excuse — you hear that — when his Country calls upon 
him 1 

Will, (aside) Lenora ! 

John. Now, Bill, if you only had an idea how one feels when 
on the field of Battle ! Then how the heart swells ! 
First, when the bugle is sounded — then as you start 
marching to the music of the Union — then when the 
struggle becomes fiercer and fiercer, when the desperate 
attack is to be made and your Colonel is firing up your 
courage — you should have seen your father when he 
commanded us at Buena Vista. His eyes then flamed 
with the fires of Patriotism ! Compared to them, the 
eyes of your sweetheart are nothing. 

Col. His sweetheart ? wink just with your eyes to him — I 
want to know — 

John. Nothing — nothing Colonel, I only meant if he had one 
(aside) Quick to something else (aloud) Yes, Bill, on 
the Battlefield a man is really a man. To loaf around 
at home in such times as these is humiliating. I feel 



certain, if you had seen our brave Lyon commanding 
us at Wilson's Creek, you would not stay at home 
another day — for just listen, how it was; Price and 
McCullocrh out numbered us greatly and things looked 
gloomy — then good brave Lyon rode up before us 
cheered us up and that put new life into us. We carri- 
ed the day— held the Battlefield— but, alas ! lost our be- 
loved General ! Then it was said as with one voice : 

1. We are marching to the front, boys, we are going to the fight, 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. 

And we bear the glorius stars for the Union and the right, 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom- 
Chorus : The Union forever, Hurrah, boys Hurrah, 
Down with the traitor, up with the star, 
For we are marching to the front boys, going to 

the fight. 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. 

2. We will meet the rebel host, boys, with fearless heart and true. 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom, 

And will show what Uncle Sam has for loyal men to do. 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. 

Chorus ; The Union &c. 

3. If we fall amid the fray, boys, we'll face them to the last, 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom, 

And our comrades brave shall hear us as they go rushing past, 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. 

Chorus ; The Union &c. 

4. Yes, for liberty and Union we're springing to the fight, 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom, 

And the Victory shall be ours, for we're rising in our might, 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. 

Chorus : The Union &c. 

Col. .Stop, old fool you ! my arms are trembling and my legs 
won't carry me — I cannot go with you. 

Will. ! that I were in the hottest of the battle ! 

John, (aside to Col.) You see now that touched him in the 
right place. 

Will, (aside) If I only had not to say farewell, If I were only 
all at once in the field of honor when the chances would 
incline in favor of the enemy, and I with my men would 
cut our way through, save the honor of the day — the 
Regiment, the Army, the Country ! That, then crowned 
with laurels, I would return to mv father— ask him but 



the one favor — he grant it, me then {kneeling) Father, 
iny dear father, your blessing! 
John. Why now, he is running stark mad — But the old man? 

Won't he give it to him? — 
Col. William you are a pitiful sight. But that is all the con- 
sequence of your idleness and sentimental meditations 
in the woods. I shall speak to your teacher 
John. Well, here I am — 
Col. I don't mean you. Our Professor has had charge of you 

mostly — he shall talk to you like an old uncle — 
John. Beg your pardon, sir, the Professor — he his teacher? 
What has Bill learned from him? These old heathen 
languages and such stuff. I, however, have taught him 
what is of more use to a young American I have taught 
him common sense, I have shown him how to sit on 
horseback — how to use the sword when you are cor- 
nered — and let us get him out to the army and he will 
know at once what he has to do, although he stands 
there now like a sick old maid — he has a half of a do- 
zen devils when he gets started once — 
Will. Yes, father, I will enlist This evening yet, I will join 
the company which is now being organized. And I 
will fight like — like — your son. But before I depart 
you must promise me — 
Col. You will ! good, good brave boy ! 
Will. Will you promise that — 
Col. Anything you want. Speak freely ! — 

(knocking.) 
( Quick.) Come in ! aha, there is the Professor, (aside) 
He's just in time, (to William) For God's sake you 
don't know the old man. If you betray us there'll be 
an awful storm. 
SCENE TTT Enter Professor. 
Prof. How is the Colonel this evening? 

Col. Thank you, very well, my dear Professor, you happen 
to come just at the right time. My William, your pu- 
pil, has this moment informed me that he is a going to 
join the Volunteers. 
Will. Yes father, so I will, if you — 

Prof, (interrupting him) At last! God bless you ! my good 
boy ! 



•J0HN\ 



Will, (embracing him,) My dear Teacher, my father — 
John. Damn it! There he starts off' again — 

Prof. It is your duty, William. Young men, aye, even old 
men should hasten to respond to the call of their Coun- 
try. They are coming forward from all parts of the 
land. And well they may — for it is to preserve the 
Union — and what will become of Republican institu- 
tions, were our Union to be dismembered and destroyed ? 

Col Yes, Professor, but this war is for something more. The 
result of it must be a full verification of the Declaration 
of Independence — and the establishment of freedom 
for all, and the fullest equality before the law of all hu- 
man beings who live upon America r i soil, and who 
breathe the free Atmosphere of the Western Continent. 
It has always troubled my conscience, my good Profes- 
sor, that we so long upheld that damnable institution of* 
slavery — and I often thought, that my bosom would be 
filled with remorse in my last hour — for the institution 
so unchristian and without the consolation of Christi- 
anity what have we to give us in the dark hour ? — 

John - . With your permission. Colonel, a good glass of Whiskey, 
is a good thing when one feels bad. — 

Col. Shut up, you o'd fool — you are nothing but a rough 
soldier. — 

John. So I am ! and — 

Cor-. Shnt up, I say. 

Prof. As to that Colonel, people hold different opinions. 
Som3 think, and conscientiously too, that the Almighty 
has put his mark upon his creatures — that he in his in- 
finite wisdom has so decreed that certain people are in- 
ferior to others, in intellect, in color, and in a hundred 
ways, But nothing of that now. The Country is in 
danger and we will not now inquire into the ultimate re- 
sult of this war. It is enough for us to know that the 
Union is to be saved, and the loyal people say it shall 
be saved. 

Col. And, as Americans we may well be proud of our people, 
of their patriotism, and of the alacrity with which they 
hasten to the rescue. However, to come to another sub- 
ject Professor, you are a more learned man than I am, 
and you perhaps can explain to me a most singular dream. 
Last nig-ht, which now comes to mv mind and which was 



10 

thus — I stood by the side of a pond of muddy water, 
and saw you standing on the other side In the middle 
I saw a head raising itself out of the water, which re- 
sembled very much that of my William. I felt very 
much concerned when you, with your cane struck at it, 
whereupon it dived under the water and was not seen 
anymore. 

Prof. You know what I think of dreams ? that I consider 
them nothing more than incongruous pictures drawn by 
our imagination. What brought me here to day was to 
communicate to you — as my old neighbor, a more plea- 
sant reality. I came to tell you, that my daughter Le- 
nora is engaged and that this evening we are celebra- 
ting her betrothal ! 

Will. A most extraordinary dream ! 

John. That means nothing but the licking he got when he did 
not know his lessons. 

Will. What? 

John. Keep quiet! In the name of all the living devils keep 
quiet ! 

Col. I am quiet happy to hear that — and who is the happy 
one? 

Prof. Richard Norton, generally called Dick of the Spring- 
house. 

Will. She don't love him. 

John. Cannot you hold your tongue ? 

Prof. Never mind about that. I have to make such arrange- 
ments so as to cause her to abondon a fantastic notion 
which would or might make her the victim of the scheme 
of a certain young libertine and would plunge her into 
the dark abyss of female destruction. 

John. Well now, he goes right to the front like Genl. Lyon. 

Col. Then we will both have a festival. Your daughter will 
be bethrothed to a stalwart young man, and my son will 
be married to his country — All happiness to the young 
handsome bride — and — and, I shall not forget her. 
When are the nuptials to be ? 

Prof. When our Boys come back from the war and when we 
will celebrate the peace-festival. Then we will have 
the wedding. 

Will, (aside) Thank God ! We have not peace yet, 



11 

Col. What is the matter William ? why are }Ou so restless? 

Prof Will you go to the war, William ? 

Will. If my father — 

Prop. You will go. You will go with the brave boys who 
will leave our village to night. I have full faith in 
tne patriotism and bravery of my good William. You 
will not bring disgrace into a family with whom you 
have had a second home since yonr childhood You 
will not oblige a father to curse his only daughter. 
May God's blessing be with you ! 

Will. I cannot. What you ask of me, father, is more than hu- 
man. 

Prof. Collect yourself — take courage ! 

John. If I only had him out in the camp — it would soon be 
all right. 

Prof. And now, Col. my presence is needed at home. So I 
bid you all good night. 

Col. My kind regards to the happy couple and to your good 
old lady, {exit Prof.) Now, my son, get ready — 
and in the meanwhile I will write a few words to that 
excellent man, that brave soldier, my good old friend 
Genl. Meade ; I am satisfied he will take care of you if 
you are deserving of his kind disposition. John here, 
will be your comrade. 

John. Surely I will, and — 

Will. Father, If I am to keep my promise, you must keep 
yours likewise. 

Col. Of course I will, what is it? 

John. Now we shall have an explosion — 

Will. I will march to the front — I will earn new laurels for 
our name and family — I will follow the flag of our 
Country, unto the very end of the world but — only as 
the future husband of Lenora ! 

Col. Lenora ! ? 

Will. Only if you allow me to marry her upon my return 
home — 

Col Lenora ! ! 

Will. Lenora! my Lenora! 

Col. Was that it ? Heaven, death and hell ! the bride of an- 
other. 



12 

Will. Her heart knows nothing of it — She has sworn love to 

me. 
Col. To you ? you prodigal miserable boy — John call back 

the Professor ! 
John. But Colonel — 
Col. March ! [John exit.) 

Will. Father, my dear father, what are you about to do? 
Col. Deprive you of every hope — make you obedient or — 

disown you. 

Will. Is that the love of a father for his only son? 

Col. Is that the love of a son for his old father? You, my 
son, to marry the daughter of a papist? You so forget- 
ful of your ancestors — our ancestors — our Puritan an- 
cestors — and you want to bring a papist into the fa- 
mily? You — but enough. 

Will. And do not the papists — as you call them, worship 
the same God, the same Saviour? 

Col. So you have these fantastic notions already? Let them 
pray and worship as they please — that is their business 
— but none of their idolatrous practices shall be intro- 
duced into my house. Just wait one moment and I 
will show you how I will handle your future father-in- 
law who made such good use of the time which I thought 
you spent in his house in pursuing your studies — Why, 
I am convinced he has shemed this marriage — It is all 
a preconcerted affair. 

Will Upon my honor, father, he — 

Col. Silence ! Don't waste your honor, you — you — who 
wants to disgrace our family. 

Will. With all respect for our ancestors, father — I solemnly 
believe that the day is happily gone by in this free land 
of ours, when any destinction is made on account of 
creed or nationality. Catholics signed the Declaration 
of Independence — Catholics fought in the revolution- 
ary war, were your comrades in Mexico — Catholics are 
distributing charity everywhere to day as well as Pro- 
testants or Hebrews — and we all understand by this 
time that the creed is something — I don't know what 
to call it — and a that it is true, honest, brave and chari- 
table heart, which makes the good man. And I, sir, I 
swear to you now, that I love her, that I shall never 



13 

abondon her, that she shall be .nine — that I shall take 
her home to ray bosom, even if we were to celebrate our 
nuptials in the dismal swamp of Virginia or in the wild 
forests of the far west. 
Col. Celebrate them where you please — dance it out on the 
grave yard — where your murdered father will lie bu- 
ried — if that does suit you ! 

Will. God! Why should man have these agonies? Are not 
thy heavens grand in their azure blue? Are not thy 
meadows dresse din green — are not thy forests free — 
and why should we — we men, be slaves to our old pre- 
judices ? 

Scene IV. Enter Prof, and John. 

Prof, You surprise me Colonel. 

Col. You may well be surprised, old hypocrite. 

Prop. Colonel ! 

Col You dared to entice — over in your rookery — to draw 
my boy into love aifairs. May the devil hold the candle 
for that job to you and your women folks. 

Prop. Colonel — I beseech you to keep within the bounds of 
moderation. — 

Col. Within the bounds of moderation ? ! You undertake to 
say that to me and in my own house ? Who are you sir? 
Have you forgotten that you came to this place years 
ago, poor, penniless, wretched ? Did I not protect you ? 
Did I not — to help you — engage you a tutur to my 
boy — and did I not obtain for you, other pupils — 
enabling you to earn a livelihood ? And now are those; 
my thanks, that you — not only entice my son 
away from his father --- but, command me to keep with- 
in the bounds of moderation ! — 

Prof, {solemnly) I know, sir, that I am a poor man and I am 
not ashamed to acknowledge it — I never had riches and 
never squandered a fortune. But sir, I am an honest 
man, and I am proud to say it. You, sir. may be proud 
of your revolutionary ancestors — nobody is respon- 
sible for the stock from which he springs. That is the 
dispensation of Providence. You, may be proud of 
your military achievements, I sir, have done my duty 
in my sphere — in educating the young so that they 
might become good citizens. And while employed in 



14 

that occupation, I have done perhaps as much good for 
the country as you or any one, who has led the life of 
a soidier. You, tell me, that you assisted me when I 
was a stranger in this place — with nothing but my 
education and my knowledge — And as to that, 1 will 
say to you that I always felt as if under the burden of 
a heavy debt to you for that act of kindness — but you 
sir, have relieved me. I stand on a level with you now; 
for he who throws up to any one an act of kindness has 
no future claim to gratitude or recognition. I am op- 
posed to a union of my daughter with your son, because 
I know what religious prejudices will do — and you have 
given me the best illustration of it this evening, Now, 
sir, I which you a good evening — and I would also 
have you to remember, that I expect to be treated re- 
spectfully as a respectable man has a right to. (exit. 

John. Well now, Colonel, the Professor talks right plain and 
comes straight to the front like Genl. Lyon. 

Col. He was — he was right. I feel ashamed of myself. 

Will. He spoke to the point — and so will I. If I may not 
marry Lenora I'll put a bullet through my brain ! 

Col. You will ? — John (whispering something in his ear.) 

John, (hesitatingly) Colonel --- but --- 

Col. March ! 

John. A hell of a day this evening! (exit) 

Will. Have you no answer for me ? — 

Col. Patience, my boy, patience ! — 

(pause) 
Enters John with two pistols, which he puts upon the table. 

Col. Here is my answer. Here the one for you the other for 
me. 

Will. Father ! 

Col. Take them! They are loaded or perhaps you have not 
the courage to blow your brains out. Then direct the 
weapon upon me ! Do your best now — and when I am 
dead bestow your band upon this papist girl — Go on ! 

Will, (kneeling) Father, have mercy! — 

Col. One word more — Either you go up to your room — 
pack up what things you want to take along and join 
the Company which is to start from here to night — or 



15 

--•you may go where you please — for I want nothing 
of you. No more — not a word ! John come with me — 
after a little while I shall be back and see if I have a 
son or not. 

John*, Colonel — the pistols ! 

Col. Leave them here. The Almighty gave him his life — 
if he wants to commit waste, I shall not deprive him of 
the privilege ! Better dead than dishonored. Come John 
{Exeunt Col. and John.) 

Will. Yes, yes ! I must go — must leave this place, must leave 
her, must find her when I return as his wife ! by heavens! 
must I ? ! No ! No ! — Father left the pistols here — he 
said I could do with my life what I pleased. So will T, 
shall I live without her ? No, no — (taking a pistol) So 
small a thing can put an end to so much misery — Aye, 
my comforter (cocking the pistol) that is the first pull- - 
one pnll more and it is done — (o long pause) 
But the consequences — what will Lenora say — it will 
drive her to despair, perhaps to madness--- my father— 
1 shudder to think of it — {lays down the pistol) {pause) 
What Lenora, the wife of that fellow, what interest to 
me what becomes of her? Father, himself has put the 
pistol here for me — he has no heart, he docs not feel 
for me — {taking the pistol) What do I care for all of 
them when I am dead and gone, when I have left a 
world which has nothing attractive for me. The Al- 
mighty has not fixed his cannon against self slaughter. 
He, in his infinite mercy will forgive me if I quit a life 
which is nothing but a burden to me. One pull and all 
is over — and this poor soul may have rest — So good 
bye world, good bye Father, good bye Lenora — {rai- 
sing the pistol — a drum and fife arc heard outside). My 
friends the companions of my boyhood are a gathering 
to march to the front. They have courage to face the 
cannon of the enemy {pause) {throwing the pistol on the 
table.) away tempter! I will live — I have courage to 
face the enemy — If 1 find my death on the battlefield 
it will be an honorable death — I will live — 1 am no 
coward — I will show it. I will be a man from this 
day {pause.) a Suicide is — at best — a miserable cow- 
ard — a runaway — who because he fears the adversi- 
ties of life — wants to escape them by self destruction. 
I will live and I will live for my Country ! {exit.) 



16 

Scene V. John (with knapsack and a soldiers mantel.) 

No I cannot stand it any longer here ! Out in the camp 
on the field — there is my place ! There they fight with 
the bayonet and with the sword ! There I feel at home 
— Here where they fight battles of* words is not my 
p] acG — Come old mantle. Give me protection once 
more against rain, and snow, and storm. Here the 
moths will eat thee, better we be used up and worn out 
in our proper sphere — Only last me until I have to de- 
part to join the grand army of yonder world. 



{Sinus. ) I wear thee now these eighteen years : 
We've passed through storms severe — 
When the cannon balls were flying, 
And the boys around us dying 
We too did never fear. 



And often in the stilly night. 
When rain and snows did fall, 
Thou ! thou alone did'st warm me, 
And whatsoever did harm me, 
Old mantle, thou know'st it all ! 



And tales thou never told'st on me : 

Wast faithful thou wast true — 

Wast true 'gainst all contending, 

Of thee there shall be no mending — 

Lest mantle, thou should'st become new — 

And may they laugh and mock at me. 

Thou art precious to my soul 

For where the tatters are hanging suspended. 

Their way the bullets wended 

Each bullet makes a hole. 



And when the bullet comes at last 
That pierces through the heart, 
Then, while my eyes are breaking 
My comrades shall be speaking 
Thus should a soldier depart. 

When taken to the dark cold grave 
My friends, I want no crowd ; 
Six soldiers my corpse shall carry 
And on their way not tarry 
This mantle be my shroud. 



17 

SCENE VI. JOHN. Enter several Volunteers. 

1. Vol. Where is the Colonel? where is William ?-.- 

John. Why? 

*2. Vol. We were appointed a Committee to inform William 
that we have unanimously chosen him our Captain, and 
before leaving desire to pay our compliments to the 
Colonel. 

John. That shows good sense in you — You have made an ex- 
cellent choice. — 

3. Vol. And it is the wish of the Company that you should be 
our first Lieutenant. 

John. I ! no — Thank you for the honor, but your seegeant 
I will be. I want my rifle as well as my sword when 1 
go into battle 

(Enter William) Here is a Committee to inform you 
that the Company haselected you their Captain — You, 
of course, will accept. 

Will. I will — at the head of the Company I will fight and die 
— where the bullets are showering there shall be my 
place — are you soon ready to start. 

A Vol. Yes sir --- when will you meet us to take the command? 

John. Leave that to me. I will make the arrangements. (Ex- 
eunt Volunteers) 

Will. One favor do me yet, John — Go over to the Professor 
and tell Lenora — (pause crying) 

John, (aside) Rather would I fight the battle of Wilson's Creek 
over again than see the poor boy thus (aloud) you might 
go yourself, Bill 

Will. Do you think so ? 

John. So much time you will have to spare to say farewell to 
her, perhaps it is forever. 

Will. Forever ? do you count all Eternity for nothing ? 

John. Soldiers and Eternity have nothing to do with each 
other. (Exeunt) 

SCENE VII. An open space at the gate of the Profs, garden. 

Lenora, Richard Norton. 
Rich. I feel embarassed. 
Leno. I see that. 
Rich. Therefore you might meet me half ways — 



18 

Leno. Mow? 

Rich. With friendship. 

Leno. I always felt friendly towards you. --- 

Rich. With love. — 

Leno. I — 1 I have to much respect for you — 

Rich. Upon respect and confidence true love is based. 

Leno. Mr Norton — I — I {aside) No I cannot tell him- 

Rich. You make rne sad. MissLenora — 

Leno. There is Miss Wilson, your neighbour's daughter — 

Rich. That conceited old maid ! 

Leno She is far more handsome than I am — and it is said she 
had an eye on you --- 

Rich. I see none but Lenora's eyes — 

LeNO- \astde) He wont understand me — 

Rich. You seemed to favor me. --- 

Leno. But [ cannot-- I cannot love you! Aye niy dear Mr- 
Norton, my father is so severe with me. — Be my pro- 
tector. 

Rich. ( vjalking up to her) That is just what I desire to be — 

Leno. i Retreating) Not in this way, from a distance. 

Rich- Why? 

Leno. Because - - because — 1 — I love another man •-- (aside) 
Thank God ! it is out. 

Rich That ia only a youthful notion. A kind husband, and I 
promise to be such, will soon make you forget him. 

Leno. Is he not to be shaken ? — 

Rich. There comes your father. 

Leno. If you mean to be a friend to me, don't betray me — 

Scene VIII. Enter the Professor. 

Prop. Do I find you together and alone ? — That is right, that 
is what I like to see. Always be so. Come into the 
house — exchange rings and receive my blessing — 

Rich. Friend, teacher — father ! — 

Leno. (with a tremulous voice) father! — 

Prof. Silence! Your obedience, and it only can make me for- 
get, what I suffered on your account. Call your mother ! 

Rich. She is crying! — I will dry her tears, Aye! Lenora I 
will carry you on my hands! — 



19 

Prof. Did I live to suffer that? Did I survive the insult? 
When, when will the time come, when men will re- 
cognize each other as brethren. 

Scene IX. Enter Mrs. Hughes. 

Prop. Lenora is a bride. 

Mrs. H. So 1 hear. — 

Prop. We will celebrate the bethrotal this day. - - 

Mrs. H. You think so ? 

Prof- William goes to the army to night. I will not know 

what share you had in my disgrace — 
Mrs. H. Disgrace ? 
Prof. What it should come to that ! Happy as we were in our 

honest poverty — and this thunderstorm should come 

over us ! But I forgive you. 
Mrs. H. Dear Husband ! 
Prof. Be quiet — Don't speak any more about it. ( Exeunt 

through th° gate). 

Scene X. Enter John and William.. 

John. Now you see how you get her to come out. — I will go 
and make the arrangements ; when the boys start to 
march to the depot— I shall come to call you (exit John.) 

Will. The old signal is the best. But I am trembling, my 
heart is panting. Dear home, I approach thee for the 
last time. Dear old hammer for the last time thou 
knockest at this gate. 

(a bugle sound is heard at a distance) 

That is the sound now they call me --. Lenora come into 
my arms (knocks three times on the gate) (Lenora comes 
rushing out.) 

Leno. ! William, do you come to my betrothal? 

Wilt.. To bid you farewell ! 

Leno. You go — 

Will. To the war — 

Leno. And I remain here — 

Will. In the arms of a lover. 

Leno. I hate him — I only love you — 

Will. Will you be true to me — 

Leno. As true as I live — 



20 



Will. Swear I 

Leno. By the living God I by my honor— by the life of my 

parents! But no! what is everything to me, compared 

to you? I swear to be true to you by the love with 

which I love you. And you ? 
Will. Yours forever and ever. Your father said when the 

company returns from the war, your nuptials are to be. 

Before they all come back, I will be here — and if your 

parents will not cave in, we will elope. 
Leno. I shall follow you — and if necessary to the grave. 
Will. The night before your wedding you will hear me knock 

at the gate. 
Leno. I shall fly up, count one, two, three. You will be there 

— I rush into your arms ! 
Will. You throw yourself on my bosom — over yonder at the 

graveyard gate I shall have my horse standing — I carry 

you over there — we mount the horse, and then — 
Leno. But William if you should not return f you should fal 

in battle — if — 
WlLL. 1 shall come anyhow! 
Leno. Do not blaspheme the Almighty ! — 
Will. Who says that I do ? my love is so great that it reac he 

far beyond the grave. I shall come, I call you — I shal 

not leave you Lenora — and if I had to tear you from the 

Altar when the minister is to solemnize the marriage — 

aye! if I had to drag you out from the bridal chamber — 
Leno. Take this ring. My intended one has forced it upon 

my finger. Give me your ring — so, now it is all wel 

we are betrothed — 
Will. For this and for yonder world ! Lenora — I hold you 

in my arms — let us elope — away to the West — found 

an humble home — and live contended and happy, for 

where there is love there is happiness. 
Leno. William ? ! my father — no matter how he stands in our 

way — he is my father still — 
Will. Come, come ! I won't let you go ! — 
Mes. H {from within) Lenora ! 
Leno. Woe ! my mother ! 
Will. Your mother is not against us ! 
Leno. But she cannot do anything with father. 



21 

Mrs. EL (as before) Your father asks for you — why do you 

tarry, Lenora ! 
Lend. I am coming — 
Scene XL Enter John. 
John. William — it is time — 

(music is heard behind the scenes.) 

Leno. Farewell, William ! — 

Will, (embracing her) Lenora 1 

Leno. Be true ! 

Will. Unto death I 

Mrs. H. Lenora 1 

Leno. In a minute, mother — be true ? — 

Will. Unto death aye 1 beyond the grave 1 

John. Come, come awayl 

(Exeunt Lenora through the garden gate. Enter the Com- 
pany, William and John marching in military order, then Colonel 
Norwood dressed in Continental uniform.) 

Col. You drop the plow to follow the flag of your Country, 
You throw aside the hoe to seize the sword — You do 
light boys! That is what our forefathers did — This uni- 
lcrm my grandfather wore at Bunker Hill. May the 
same spirit which animated them prevail with you — 
and when you return and the Union is saved — and J 
should be dead by that time — Come to my grave and 
let me know the glorious news — Sing out to me but 
these Words : the Union is saved -- and I shall hear 
them-- though I were uuder the ground a mile deep ! 

And now William, the boys have chosen you their 
Captain — do honor to the position — Here I present 
you with the very sword which my grandfather wielded 
at Bunker Hill, the same my father carried when figh- 
ting under the great and good Jackson at New Orleans 
and the same which was mine at the battle of Buena 
Vsta. — Do Justice to it (pcuse) 

John. Colonel ! you --- pardon me — better don't undertake to 
make a speech — • you never were much of a talker — 
Our Captain takes right after you, and that is all right 
-- Great Captains were always noted for tneir silence 
— Now if you allow me I will tell the Boys all you 
want to say — and I will tell them in my own plain 
way — 



22 

m u sic. 

(S«»i^-.) We are coming Father Abraham. 
Three hundred thousand more : 
From Mississippi's winding stream. 
And from New England shore. 
We leave our plows and workshops, 
Our wives and children dear ; 
With hearts too full of utterance 
With but a silent tear. 
We dare not look behind us, 
Hut steadfastly before. 
We are coming. Father Abraham, 
Three hundred thousand more ! 

< bonis. We are coming, We are coming. 

Our Union to restore : 
We are coming, Father Abraham, 
With three hundred tyousand mo*. 



If yon look across the hill tops, 
That meet the Northern sky, 
Long moving lines of rising dust. 
Your vision may descry, 
And now the wind an instant. 
Tears the cloudy veil aside, 
And floats aloft our spangled flag, 
Fn glory and in pride. 
And bayonets in the sunlight gleam. 
And bands brave music, pour — 
We are coming. Father Abraham. 
Three hundred thousand more ! 

Chenas. We are eominc, <&c. 



II \ ou look all up our valleys, 
V\ here the growing harvest shine, 
You may see our sturdy farmer boys. 
Fast forming into line, 
And children from their mothers knee- 
Are pulling at the weeds, 
And learning how to reap and sow. 
Against their country's needs. 
And a farewell group stands weeping 
At every cottage door — 
We are coining. Father Abraham. 
Three hundred thousand more 1 

riiorns. W< »i , cominjr. &c. 



23 



You have called us, and wiSrc coming, 

By Richmond's bloody tide ; 

To lay us down for freedom's sake, 

Our brothers' bones beside ; 

Or from foul treason's savage group 

To wrench the murderous blade : 

And in the face of foreign foes, 

Its fragments to parade. 

Six hundred thousand loyal men, 

And true have gone before — 

We are coming. Father Abraham, 

Three hundred thousand more ! 

Chorus. We are coming, &c. 

( Marching and countermarching on the stage, 
during which the curtain drops.) 

END OF ACT T. 

o 



ACT II. 
A GOOD MENTOR. 

Scene I. Garden sun-rounded by a high wall on the side of it 
an arbor 

Miss Southworth, James, and John. 

Miss S. That is all well and good, but enough of that now — 

Be pleased to leave us. 
John. I'll go Miss — 
Miss S. What is it you want ? 
John. Nothing — You won't get hLn though, as long as I live 

— (exit) 
Miss S. Impudent fellow! (after looking around) How now? 

No news? 
James. From Col. Saunders ? No, not yet. Miss, how pas- 
sionately he loves you, over in yonder wood, he keeps 

himself, now looking over here and sighing for you, and 

you here ™ wishing that you were with him. 



24 

Miss S. Stop your balderdash ! Since when are you my confi 
dent that you speak so familiarly to me. Understan- 
me, sir, no more such talk ! Be gone, sir, 1 see the Md 
jor coming. 

James. I always fear — 

Miss. S- What? 

James. You might let that Yankee take too good and deep a 
peep into your cards. 

MlSS S. ( Wants to answer but restraint herself and beckons to him to go — 
he does so shaking his head) I play a dangerous game ! To 
the Colonel I feel attached by a common purpose — by 
politics and by a commou hatred of these Yankee inva- 
ders — William — I love — without him I cannot live 
— C ould I but gain him over to our Cause — but he 
does not understand me — or perhaps don't want to — 
and that were far better {meditating). 

Scene II. William {looking at her) There she is ! 

Will. Here beautiful, Miss ? 

Miss S. You here Major? whence did you come? 

Will. Came directly from Headquarters — 

Miss S. Anything new there ? 

Will. All are in good cheer and hopeful — 

Miss S. Because they think our cause a lost one — 

Will. Even so — why should we not think so ? Since we dea- 
feated your army at Gettysburg — Since — 

Miss. S* I am sorry to tell you, that you are laboring under a 
most deceiteful declusion — Our Southern people can 
never be conquered — we are invincible — By this time 
you might have satisfied yourselves of their bravery — 
and not only that — yon know the French are in Mexi- 
co looking over thborder ? 

Will. I know what you mean to say, and let me answer you 
— that you are only deceiving yourself. That the Sou- 
thern people — are brave is true — and I am proud of 
them on that account for I cannot forget that they are 
Americans — but as to the French — never mind 
them ! — 

Miss. S. And are you not of the opinion they sympathize with 
us, in our struggle ? 



25 



Miss S 
Will- 
Miss S 



Wlli. 



Miss 



Will. Certainly 1 am — but what good will it do you ? 

Miss S. What harm will it do you ? 

Will. None whatever, one of these days— Old Mr. St ward 
will send a little notice to Napoleon - - telling him that 
Uncle Sam does not relish the sight of foreign merce- 
naries ttespassing so near his own ground 
And Napoleon ? 

Will send his ships to take his soldiers home — 
Do not deceive yourself. That is just the stuff* your 
Government is circulating among the people — The aims 
of the French Emperor are higher •- he does not want 
to see a free and gallant people oppressed. We shall 
have assistance before long if we need it. 
Miss, don't proceed any further — I cannot comprehend 
how an American lady could wish a foreigner to come, 
and glery in the humiliation of our Common Country. 
Our Common Country ? ! we have no Common Country 
We have on one side — on our side a free people strug- 
gling for Independence, and on your side — the Inva- 
ders — coming to subjugate — to enslave us people of 
the South — Abstain, Major, from your purpose; the 
Union is severed — 

Never ! Never ! as long as the stars and stripes are wa- 
ving, the cause of the Union is not hopeless. 

That cause is lost ! is irredeemably lost — and all who 
adhere to it — are lost with it. 

Then let it be so! Better go down with the flag of our 
country waving, than live to triumph upon her ruins — 
(animated) May our enemies be destroyed— All ! all ! 
Only one I should want to save — only one —for to o-ain 
him over to our side ! 

I dare not understand these words — else — I should 
have to treat one — whom I worship — as a public ene- 
my. 

. Worship? 

Let us drop the subject. The future will develope all. 

Whit the future will bring us — We can easily foresee. 
Your stubbornness makes you ignore a friend, who would 

be willing to stake her fate with yours — but (imitating 

him) let us drop the subject. 



Will. 



Miss S 
Will. 



Miss. S 



Will. 



Mtss S 
Will. 

Miss S 



26 

Will. You mock me. — 

Miss S. Go to ! let me alone ! Go among your rough Yankee 
soldiers! Listen to that old ruffian of a Sergeant. What 
do you care if you should break my heart. Perhaps in 
bloody combat you may meet one of my brothers — and 
what a triumph for a young hero — 

Will. Miss! Dear Miss! Do you want to kill me? you are 
torturing me to death. Since I know you, I have lost 
my cheerfulness — the peace of my heart is disturbed — 
must you torment me thus ? You know, dear Miss, that 
I am engaged at home — 

Miss. S. Must I hear that ? 

Will. Engaged to one who is true to me -- who loves me — 
who — 

Miss. S. Is that it ? 

Will. But I have already been faithless to her ! New aspira- 
tions are occupying my mind. Your graciousness has 
made me bold— Miss, have I been deceived? 

Miss. S. (Jestingly) Traitor ! 

Will. Woe to me ! a Traitor ! 

Miss S. Never mind — I was not serious. — 

Will, (aside) Yes, a traitor— a traitor to her, a Traitor to 
my Country ! Y"ou are an enemy of our country — 

Miss S. I only said so in a Jest— Have confidence in me— I will 
be your guide ; 

Will, (taking her hand) How that touch electrifies me, I am 
lost (kneeling) 

Miss S. My dear young enthusiastic warrior! There are lau- 
rels in store for this brow ! Could I but crown it— Be- 
think yourself — take sides for southern independence ! 

Will. Cruel girl ! How you let me feel that I wear shackles 

— and that I am your slave --- 
Miss S. But those shackels are of flowers — 

Will. Under which treason is lurking. But my dear miss — 
my manhood is yours — I am completely in your power 

— Miss — could I be yours ? 
Miss S* Be ours — and you are mine ! — 
Will. Where am I — 1 am losing my senses — 

(leaning his head on her arm) 

Miss S. (aside) He is caught. 



27 



James. 

Miss S 

Will. 



(Enter James.) 
Your presence is requested — 
Excuse me for a moment. 

Exeunt Miss S. and James. 
What a change that woman has worked in me. I am 
almost a stranger to myself! Here in the sunny south 
everything attracts me — The fcouth is the paradise — 
and Miss Southworth is put a watch at the gate — bec- 
kons to me to come over, but a sense of duty keeps me 
back. How fine it must be — How blessed the land on 
the Mississippi — on the Gulf - And when the war is 
over, I have to go back to the sterile soil in the moun- 
tains of Pennsylvania — I — 

Enter John, (tapping him on the shoulder. 

John. Major ! 

What do you want here ? 
What is the matter, Major ? 
What is that to you ? 

Well now, I suppose I might ask the question. I saw. 
this Miss Southworth just leave you, and I thought I 
would speak to you a word or two. Major, you ought 
to be ashamed of yourself! 
You dare sir ? 

I dared nothing yet — the best is to come — 
Silence ! Let me alone ! 

Yes, I believe it, you would like to shake me olf, for 
when the conscience is not in the right trim we cannot 
very well look honest people in the face. But sir, I 
won't go — at least not without you — You have advan- 
ced too far, and it becomes necessary to sound a re- 
treat. I suppose you understand me ? 
Does that intruder dare to remind me of my duty ? 
(aloud) Shall I teach you what subordination means? 
Attention : About face ! not a word or by the Eternal — 
(puts himself in a military posture.) (pause) 
John ! — 
Hem ! — 
John ! — 
Well? — 
Speak ? — 



Will, 
John. 
Will 
John. 



Will. 
John. 
Will. 
John. 



Will. 



John. 

Will. 

John. 

Will. 

John. 

Will 



28 



(pause.) 

John, When twenty four years ago, you first saw light, I had 
not a grain of respect for you. Now however you have 
grown above me — and are my Major — and ol course, 
I have to obey orders — But I am not blind for all that 
and I see but too well that this handsome secesh girl has 
put the sling right around your neck. If your father 
would know that ? Now, in the first place, you commit 
a sin against your father — for he is a staunch old Union 
man. We have now the year '63, now you were born 
— let see — take 24 from 63 — 4 from 3 won't go — 
therefore I borrow one - - 4 from 13 leaves 9, and 2 from 
5 leaves 3-- 39 — HI had known then that you would 
thus disgrace us ? But you may abuse me, for you are my 
Major — you may knock and kick me about --- that is no- 
thing, that is the lot of true old servants and of old 
dogs — 

Will. John! 

John. 0, that is all nothing! You gave the command Atten- 
tion ! About face ! And here I stand like a bronze sta- 
tue. You also commanded me to speak — Now second- 
ly you commit a great sin against Lenora — 

Will. Who mentioned that name ? 

John I did ! Old Hergeant John. — 

Will. John forgive mo ! (putting his arms around his neck) 

John. I stand firmly, and am a fort you cannot take so easily. 
But, Major, let go — if the boys should see it — that 
don't look well, for a Major. 

Will. On this breast my head rested when I was a mere in- 
fant, with these whiskers the boy played ! Forgive me 
John ! 

John. Major — will you allow me to raise my right hand for a 
moment — a few drops of water just rolled down my 
cheeks and they tickle so in my whiskers —just let me 
wipe them off — I feel as if every drop of blood that is 
in me — were stirred up. 

Will. You awake me from my dream — John what shall I 
do? . 

John - . Be true to Lenora — sack this girl — The she devil is 
cunning. 

Will. Miss Southworth loves me — 



29 

John. Possibly. — Lenora surely. — 

Will. Miss Southworth is sincere with me. — 

John. Don't you believe it — she is false. 

Will. For tne first time in this fearful ordeal my first love re- 
curs to my mind. I see Lenora's window, I hear her 
sweet voice ! I also see our parents — 

John. They were always in your way — why did you not care 
for them formerly ? This won't do. You have given 
your promise to Lenora — and a man that would break 
such a promise, is no man at all — and is not worthy 
to live among decent people — Yes, William you are 
in the fair way to be false to your sweet heart, and then 
turn traitor to your Country. — 

WtL. John — do you want to kill me ? 

John. Not at all — I want to bring you back to a right and 
honorable life ! Is it not a shame — Here we are gone 
five months, and you have written to her but once ! 
What must her mother think of you; And she was al- 
ways on your side — you know ? 

Will. But what shall I write ? 

John Why, you don't know that? Here, sit down by this ta- 
ble — take out your book, tear out a leaf, and I will 
tell you — 



(Sings.) 1. When thinking how I wronged thee 
My heart feels sad and sore, 
I am sad beyond all measure 
I shall wrong thee never more — 



I know for me thy prayers, 
Were said by night and day, 
Thou had'st no happy hour 
Since 1 have been away. 



I give that to you in mv own plain style. You must 
put it in the right shape yourself and give it the pro- 
per polish. The sense of it — I guess : s about correct 
for true love is always the same — It was always alike- 
fifty years ago and now — with majors and sergeants — 
And the infidelity of a lover always looks black — there- 
fore you mrst write : 



30 

(Sings.) 3. I never shall forsake thee — 
And should it be my lot 
To die in gory battle, 
1 shall forget thee not. 

4. Thou art my precious treasure — 
Thou art forever mine, 
And whether I am living 
Or dead, still 1 am thine, 

( William writing.) 

John. Will that letter be long yet? 
Will. Why ? 

John. When you come to turn over I should like to say some- 
thing. But' just write ahead ! I hope I don't disturb 
you by talking a little. Now, Major — when we have 
defeated these gray Jackets and are coming home, and 
everything is straightened up, then I shall speak to the 
Colonel, your father, I should say, and then I shall tell 
him that his William, came near turning traitor to his 
Country — that he was led astray by the Charms of a 
Virginia lady, and that it was his love for Lenora which 
saved him — Now if the old man don't cave in when he 
hears that — well then I don't know him. 

Wi:ll. Lenora ! Lenora ! How could I thus forget thee ? 

John. Yes it was high time— but now I want the letter mail- 
ed forthwith The anguish of the poor girl about you 
must be great indeed. (Ex:unt) 

Scene III. A camp scene. Tents in the back ground. 

1st V. Alas ! this picket duty ?-■ it is awful •-- a body may al- 
most die, because he don't know how to spend his 
time — 

2nd V. Nonsense — we knew that before we enlisted that a 
campaign has its hardships. Did you not notice any 
suspicious signs? 

1st V. No - what should it have been ? 

2nd V. Why, I was stationed near that bridge over yonder --- 
and I saw men a moving to and fro, who did not appear 
to be regular confederate soldiers, they looked to me 
very strange. 

1st V. Go to ! When you have been on duty you always want 
to make out that you were especially vigilant. 



3l 

2nd V. And when you are at a picket post — you never think 
that it is vigilance, and vigilance above all you should 
exercise — 

1st V. [ know ray duty just as well as you know yours — 

2nd V. From jour conversation it don't seem so — 

1st V. I won'.t be insulted. 

2nd. V. And I won't take any of your lip — 

Other Volunteers come to the front. 

3rd V. What are you quarreling about ? 

1st and 2nd V. 

I don't want to be insulted — 

3rd V. Look here boys — they are quarreling — we won't have 
it — Better Dutchie give us a song, that will put things 
to right- 

Sevl. V. Yes, yes — Dutchie give us that dutch song of yours. 

{Dutchie sings.) 

If you're going, says he, 
To yonder land, says he, 
Take your Saliie, says he, 
By the hand, says he, 
You cannot enter, says he, 
Through the throng, says he, 
If your Saliie, says he, 
Isn't along. 

VYould'nt go, says he, 
Would'nt stir says he, 
At the gate, says he, 
Without her, sa>s he, 
Without my darling, says he, 
I would'nt be glad, says he, 
Without Saliie, says he, 
I should be sad. 

And her hand, says he, 
Is so neat, says he, 
And her kiss, says he, 
Is so sweet, says he, 
And her arm, says he, 
Is so round, says he, 
Let a sick man kiss it, 
And he feels sound. 



32 

And her hair, says he, 
Is like flax, says he, 
And her heart, says he, 
Soft as wax, says he, 
She has a bosom, says be, 
White as snow, says he, 
She has feet, says he. 
Like a roe. 

(Enter Willi <m and John.) 

John. What is all this? are you cutting your capers again ? 
I3 this a time for such nonsense ? Are you soldiers ! 
You ought to remember that your blue blouse covers a 
citizen and that you should be thinking fighters, and not 
mere war machines, like the soldiers of an Europeon 
King There they may cajole — for there they have 
nothing to think of, but how to depose one King, and 
to make an Emperor of the other. There they may 
sing and dance, but here you ought never to forget that 
War is a serious thing — 

Will, (aside to Jr.hn) Don't be over particular with the boys ! 

John. (7b Will) I don't mean it so hard, but we must always 
have an eve to discipline. 

(A voice is heard behind the scenes) Come this way ! 

(Enter several soldiers, with a ragged young negro.) 

A Sold. Major, we caught this nigger, and he will not give a 
full account of himself, saying that he must see an officer. 

Negro. Captain ! 

John, (aside to negro) Say Major ; he is our major ! 

Negro Major ! Don't hurt me --- the soldiers there thought I 
was a spy — but I am not — I run away from my Massa 
Col. Saunders — and got through the lines — over there 
near that bridge, they fired several shots at me — but 
onlv one bullet hit me, here in my left hand — but I 
didn't mind that. Major, L have som ^thing to tell you 
(looking at the soldiers.) 
(John beckons to the soldiers.) (they retire to the back of the stage. 

Negro. My master, and a good many others, have arranged 
matters to take the President a prisoner and hurry him 
off to the South, and want to capture him when he takes 
his drive to the .Soldiers Home, a number of men aie 
engaged for the Job. And [ believe are stationed in 



33 

the woods, and they are the ones who shot at me. From 
what I could understand, they have parties to assist them 
in Maryland and have made all preparations to cross 
the Potomac below Acquia creek during the night, and 
then with all speed go to Washington. After the Pre- 
sident has been taken away, the Confederates can sur- 
prise the Union Army, and take the capitol. There is 
a lady living some where in this neighborhood who is 
also connected with the plot. My master wants to 
marry her. 

John. Did you hear the name of that woman ? 

Negro. Yes I heard her called Miss Southworth. 

(John casts a triumphant look at William who nods.) 

Oh, Major make all haste to save the President for they 
are all ready and may go about the business any mi- 
nute. For God's sake, Major, I am no spy, and believe 
me. You may perhaps think, that it is not worth your 
while to listen to me, that I am but a poor nigger, but 
all I have told you is true. Don't send me back to my 
Master. 

Wil,l. Good, good poor fellow ! I believe you, and I shall not 
send you back to your Master, but here give me your 
hand ; you are a free man from this day. I shall defend 
your liberty, even at the cost of my own life. Oh how 
wonderful are the ways of Providence, you owe your 
country the least, love her the most. Where others had 
liberty and all enjoyments of life, you have been wear- 
ing your shackels, and the reward of your labor, was 
probably poor food and the lash. Verily! If there be 
an All, Just and Merciful God in Heaven, and a logic 
in history, this war can never come to an end, until 
your rights are fully established and secured. 

John. Well now Major, that's all very good, I have felt that 
same way all along, although I know nothing of what 
you call logic of history, but men of my sort never stu- 
died such learned stuff. We have to travel through life 
somewhat like a blind man, we have to feel our way as 
we go along. 

And what is the difference so we arrive at the same spot 
with you. There is for instance that good old philoso- 
pher in New York, his reasoning faculty always seems 



34 

to mc to be located in the heart, and he takes the right 
view of things for all that. Now if you will listen to 
me a moment, I will tell you how I feel on the subject 
and the boys may hear it too ! 

(He turns toward the soldiers. 
Come forth boys, I have something to tell you ? 

(Soldiers coming to the front of the stage, and gather 
around William and John.) 

If what I have to say, should be to your liking, you may 
put an oar in, too. 

First however, let the band strike up; music always 
loosens my tongue. 

John Brown's bod} r lies mouldering in the grave, 
John Brown's body lies slumbering in the grave, 
But John Brown's soul is marching with the brave, 
His soul is marching on. 

Chorus. Glory, Glory Hallelujah ! 
(jilory. Glory Hallelujah ! 
Glory, Glory Hallelujah ! 
His soul is marching on. 

He has gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord, 
He is sworn as a private in the ranks of the Lord, 
He shall stand Armageddon with his brave old sword. 
When Heaven is marching on. 

Chorus. Glory. &c, 

He shall file in front when the lines of battle form, 
He shall face to front when the squares of battle form, 
Time with the column and charge with the storm, 
When men are marching on. 

Chorus. Glory, &c. 

Ah ! foul tyrants do you hear him as he comes ? 
Ah ! foul traitors do you know him as he comes, 
In the thunder of the cannon and the roll of the drums, 
As we go marching on ? 

Chorus. Glory, &c. 

Men may die aud moulder in the dust, 
Men may die and arise again from the dust, 
Shoulder to shoulder in the ranks of the just, 
Wheu God is marching on. 

Chorus. Glory, &c. 



35 

Will. Attention ! make yourselves ready to march at a mo- 
ments notice, (pointing towards the Nrgro) take good 
care of him, and you sergeant come with me (soldiers re- 
tire to the back part of the stage. ) 

(Exeunt William and John, and soldiers.) 

Scene IV. The garden of Miss Southworth. 

Miss Southworth, James, and a Spy standing in the arbor. 

Spy. Here we may talk freely; at the Mansion are too many 
eaves droppers. 

(Enter William, John and a soldier, making motions to one another 
and carefully approach the arbor.) 

James. You can't trust any one of them ! 

Miss b. I vouch for the Major ! 

James. And T will make the old sergeant drunk! 

John, (making a fist) Scoundrel ! 

Spy. Then we have nothing to fear from this picket. 

Miss S. Tell your Colonel — 

Spy. (aside to Miss S.) Shall I tell nothing except about this 
enterprise. He desires an answer to a letter. 

Miss 8. Of that, in its proper time, our own affairs must be laid 
aside as long as our country's cause is at stake. 

Spy. He apprehends — 

Miss S. Enough of that. Tell him to keep himself concealed 
with his men in the woods near the bridge. We wilt 
manage to keep the Major and Sergeant here, so they 
won't review the picket line. And if the Colonel will 
but capture thnt man below here, stationed in the hol- 
low, then }^ou will have no difficulty in proceeding your 
way under the cover of the night. You can then be in 
Washington day after to morrow and execute our pur- 
pose. If you go at it, you can have the President at a 
safe place before any one in Washington will miss him. 
Tell the Colonel to have courage and let him consider 
how great the achievement will be. 

Spy. I will return the same way upon which I came. 

(Exit Spy.) 

James. Won't I laugh to see the old sergeant make a face, who 
always wants to know every thing better than other 
people. 



36 



Miss S. Don't count chickens before they are hatched. 

(During this conversation, William and John make motions to one 

another.) (Exit John.) (Miss Southicorth steps 

forth from the arbor, and William comes to meet her 

Will. Did you bring your business to a happy conclusion ? 

Miss S. I have send an answer to my wover. 

Will. Does it sound favorable ? 

Miss S. For a third party, are you not curious to know — who 

that third party is ? 
Will. No. 

Miss S. (aside) And what does that mean ? 
Will. I am only curious of something which I do not hear 

yet. 
Miss S. What is the matter William, where are your thoughts? 
Will. Only with you, my sweet Miss. 
Miss S. You are so changed ! what has happened to you ? 
Will. Nothing, nothing at all. 
Miss S. I never saw you this way. Excuse me for a moment 

till your caprices — (makes a motion to go away) 
Will, (laying his hand on her) Not for the world, you will 

stay here. 
Miss S. Major, what does this mean ? 
Will You don't like that do you ? but I shall soon talk to 

you in another voice. 
Miss S. Has my kindness made you so bold ? remember you 

speak to a lady. 
Will. I know very well I am speaking — 

(A bugle sound ts heard from behind the scene.) 

At last ! 
James. Great God ! what is that ? 
Will. That is for roll-call. 
James. That is not the hour, neither the signal. 
Will. You seem to be well versed in our signals. Well then, 

Miss, my men are marching to bring your Colonel over 

here. He might catch cold in the woods ! 

Traitors ! the American Union can never be destroyed 

by miserable plottings. 

(Enter John.) 



37 



John. Major the men are ready ; and I dispatched an orderly 
to headquarters. We will have assistance if necessary 
in a moment. 

Will. Won't want it ; of course Miss you send your best re- 
spects to your Colonel, and now my Country and my 
gaurdian angel, Lenora ! 
(Exit William-) [Music : Tramp, tramp, the Boys <Sfc) 

John. If you want to catch us napping, you must get up 
earlier. (Exit John.) 

Miss S. {very excitedly) What has happened ? 

James. They must be in league with the devil ! 

Miss S (Seizing him frantically) Have you betrayed us ? 

Jambs. I hope I'll fall dead on the spot if I have. 

Miss S. (In despair) Great God, stand by our cause, avert the 
terrible fate of a subjugation of our beautiful South (jum- 
ping to her feet) All lost — lost — lost, even he is lost, 
he whom I love and worship. 

(Turriing to James) Shake that empty head of yours, I 
love him, he is my idol. If our plan had succeeded I 
should have saved him, with him I was sincere. I should 
never have betrayed him, and now he supposes me false 
to him. He is deceived ! I can't survive the shock ! 

James. Collect yourself Miss, think of saving yourself. 

Miss S Think of your own salvation, you miserable wretch ; it 
was only for money that you assisted me in my mighty 
plottings. Fly ! fly ! for such fellows as you, there is 
home anywhere. You don't know the two words love 
and patriotism, to you it is immaterial who pays you. 
Crawl to the feet of those Yankees and prosper. 

James. I can't leave you alone Miss, you will do injury to 
yourself. 

Miss S. Oh this anguish, if it only were decided already, and 
that he would come and pronounce sentence over me, 
here on the very spot where I clasped his trembling 
hand and where I opened my heart to him. Only once 
more must I see him, tell him that I love him, then he 
may curse me, if he has the courage to do so ! 

Enter Spy. 

Fly as quick as you can, we are betrayed. Dragoons 
are searching the country all around. 



38 

James. Only assist me to save Miss South worth. 

Miss 8. Away ! I want no assistance 

James. How do matters look ? 

Spy. The Colonel still holds out, in a quarter of an hour they 
will have them all. Our plan is lost, — lost forever ! 

James. I know a safe place at the Mansion, where we can con- 
ceal ourselves until the storm has blown over. If Miss 
Southworth — 

Miss S. Once more ! Save yourselves ; I don't want your pro- 
tection. 

James. Then come. We may yet escape. 

Spy. It would be a wonder. 

{Exetint James and Spy.) 
(pause.) 

Miss S. It is all over, all our hope is gone, all this fair land 
will be under Yankee thralldom, but I will not live to 
see it. Let them come ! these Yankees, and they shall 

find a corpse (makes a motion to go, then stops, pause) 
Miss S. William ! — William ! — 
A voice behind the scene : 

"We cannot get him anv further, he will die in our 
hands !" 
(Enter John and Soldiers carrying William, who has a black 
handkercheif around his head.) 
Miss S. (rushing towards him) Oh, heavens ! what have I done. 

John, (holding her back) Don't disturb him, Miss ; respect the 
sufferings of a wounded soldier. Wait, boys, let me 
spread my old Mantle under him (does so) (Miss S. from 
the other side of the stage, keeps st&rmg at William,) 
How are you now, Major ? 

Will. Right well, John; is everything safe ? 
John. Everything is right, all right. There is only a couple 
not caught yet. I shall stay with you, the Surgeon will 

be here in a minute. 
Will. I don't need him anymore. 
John, (aside and sobbing) are we that far already — 
Will. My iove to my father, John. 
John. I will give it, sir. 
Will. Lenora, darling! I'll keep my promise; give her this 

letter. 



39 

John. Why must I do that? There are enough others that can 
do it ; on the long road you are now going to travel, I 
cannot let you go alone, I must go with you. 

Will. No, John. You must tell my father all; you must 
carry to him my cold body 1 You must tell him of my 
weakness, of my infidelity, of Miss South worth, of this 
treason — 

MlSS S. (upon the calling of her name, rushes to William) William for- 
give me ! forgive me ! ! 

Will. Miss Southworth, your dark plotting will avail vou no- 
thing. Our Union will live and will extend her bles- 
sings again over the whole Country, South as well as 
North 

Miss 8. Blessings, and I ? 

(Enter a Soldier.) 

Sold. Dispatch just read informing us, that Generals Sherman 
and Thomas have gained a great Victory at Chatta- 
nooga — 

Will. The sun rises. It is not night; it is the dawn of the 
Morning. 

John. And my William must die I 

Miss S. Did ever woman suffer thus ? 

Will. (hal f raising himself) Miss, you seem to be sincere in your 
adherence to the cause of Secession. You are erring 
like so many of your Country men. You cling to the 
sunny South ; but a time will come, when you will all 
obme to a better understanding, and you will bless us 
for obliging you to stay in the Union, and for extending 
the rule of liberty throughout the land ! The day must 
come when all my Country men, once more, will glory 
in one Name, one Country, and one flag! There will be 
one loving family, and all animosities shall cease for- 
ever ! 

Miss S. He dies ! 

John. Come nearer and see how a brave Union soldier can 
die ! Alas ! 

Miss S. Only one look, one word of forgiveness ! 

Will. I forgive you. He who can die for his Country, can 
also forgive her and his enemies' only the brave are ge= 



40 

nerous. My last look for you John, my last word li Le~ 

nora" (He dies.) 
John, (after a pause) I will get a Metallic Coffin and have it 

plaeed in a Vault and then keep it until we shall have 

peace. Then when we go home I will bring him to his 

father, so that they may rest together. 
Miss S. His hand is cold, his heart beats no more. 

John and the Soldiers, sing : 

And when the bullet comes at last, 
That pierces through the heart, 
Then while his eyes are breaking, 
His comrades, we are speaking, 
Thus should a soldier depart. 

(Curtain Drops.) 
END OF ACT II. 



ACT III. 
THE NUPTIALS OR LET US HAVE PEACE. 

Scene I. A Room in the Professor's House. 

Profkssor Hughes, Mrs. Hughes, Richard Norton, 
. Sexton. 

Prof. Where is Lenora ? 

Mrs. H. I do not know, I think she will be here soon. 

Prof. Whenever wo spend a happy hour she is sure not to be 
present ; and when we have Company she keeps away 1 

Rich. Do not scold her, lather, I love her as she is and when 
once my wife it shall be my endeavor and I shall do all 
to secure to her a life's happiness. The true love I bear 
to her will make her love me aud her vivacity will re" 
turn. 



41 

SCENE II. (Enter a Grave digger. Who quietly approaches the Sexton 
whispering something into his ear.) 

Sexton. No, God forbid ! How could I think of doing such a 
thing ? 

Prof. What is it. Neighbor ? What is the Matter? 

G. Dig. ( calmly ; something happened, Professor, were I to tell 
it, Mrs. Hughes might get frightened. 

Prof. Speak out, for you have frightened her already. 

G. Dig. Last evening, about twilight, a strange young man came 
to my house and ordered a grave to be dug ; he said the 
Sexton had sent him. My wife and I were not at home 
at the time The grave should be near Colonel Nor- 
wood's Vault. As to day our little village is busy ma- 
king preparations to receive the soldiers coming home I 
could not get to see the sexton about it and did the job. 
Now 1 come to inquire if he knows anything of it ; but 
the grave is dug and the children say the strange man 
looked very pale. (Pause) 

Sexton. Well, the misfortune is not so great. Cover the grave 
over and as soon as somebody here in the village dies, 
we can use it. 

G. Dig. Excuse me for having interrupted you. (Exit) 

Sexton. That is a very strange matter after all. 

Mrs. H. Indeed, it is. 

Prof. Don't be foolish. Who can tell what misled or decei* 
ved the children I 

Mrs. H. It is a presentiment ! Oh heavens ! (Raising her hands) 

Prof. Which eventually will turn out to be correct. For as 
we know all the people of this village it is quiet likely 
that before long one of our friends will die ; then you 
will jump at the conclusion that the ordering of the 
grave had something to do with it. You like to think 
of the gloomy and mysterious. Drop that. Let us be 
cheerful and do not forget that we have peace and that 
our good brave men are coming home to day. 

SCENE III. (Enter Coloael Norwood led by a servant.) 

All. (rising) The Colonel ! 

Ool. My dear Professor, since our unpleasantness we have 



42 

not met, I have long ago buried my anger. Aye, even 
at the time I felt that I was wrong, and often thought 
of confessing it to you. Now 1 thought I would stop 
and have a full understanding w th you. To day, you 
know we celebrate peace and we should all be friends. — 

Prop. I was a little too hasty, Colonel — 

Col. All is forgiven and forgotten — and so enough of that. 
The time will come when this war will be matter of im- 
partial history. Wondering children will read of the 
heroic deeds of the time ; it will draw tears from the 
eyes of our children's children to learn what hardships 
their Grandfather had to endure. We are still in the 
midst of the great events and can not fully appreciate 
them. Now, however, we must work together, one and 
all, to build up again what has been destroyed and, 
Thank God ! we can now begin to do it ! All hail to 
the day of Appomattox ! 

All. All hail and God's blessing ! 

Prof. And may I ask whether your ^on — 

Col. God knows what the boy is doing. He has not written 
to me for some time. I received a letter the other day 
from John but I have not the patience to decipher his 
claw. Only so much I spelled out of it: "We are co- 
rning soon, William and I" 

Prof. Well, then you may expect them every minute. How 
great your joy will be ! To embrace your only son — 
as he comes crowned with honor — as one of our Coun- 
try's defenders ! All the anxiety which you have felt 
during his absence will be forgotten in a moment ! 

Col. Yes, Yes! it would be all well then — if only — Pro- 
fessor there is something here yet, and to day it must 
all out. (aside to Professor) You have not kept your 
promise. — 

Prof. I ? That would be the first time in my life, I failed ! 

Mrs. H. [aside) Woe to us! now all is lost! 

Rich, (aside) Thank God, he broaches the subject ! 

Col. At that time you solemnly promised that on the day 
when we would celebrate the restoration of peace and 
the boys would come home you would — 



43 

Prof 1 . I would marry Lenora to our Richard. Good God ! 
how could I forget that ? But joy has overcome me so 
to-day. The day has not come to an end yet, though. 
Thank you, thank you, my worthy friend and neighbor, 
for this reminder : it just came in time. I understand 
you now. You are right, William shall not return be- 
fore Lenora — 

Col. That's it. 

Prof, Sexton ! Hurry and ask the Minister to be kind enough 
to perform the Marriage ceremony at church to night be- 
fore he preaches his peace sermon. Please invite all 
our friends to the house this evening to celebrate the 
nuptials. They must be united this evening and you 
shall have my blessing, my son. 

Rich. I did not want to mention the matter but since God has 
so willed it let us go about if with all possible dispatch. 

(Exeunt Sexton and Richard.) 

Mrs. H. As a mother I should be grateful to you, Colonel, still 
it breaks my heart. 

Prof. Be silent, dear Kate ! 

Coj,. Let her speak, she is the Mother. 

Mrs. H. Poor Lenora has not forgotten William yet and it is 
heartrending to observe how the poor girl worries her- 
self about him. Since he went away, she hasn't been 
well for a single hour. She is pale, and disturbed, and 
God forgive me, sometimes I must believe that she is 
out of her mind ! My husband don't see that for when 
he speaks to her she gathers all her strength to make 
herself appear happy. But when she is with me, alone, 
the portals of her grief open and sometimes I hear her 
weep the whole night long ! 

Col. My dear people! How can I help it? 

Prof. My wife exaggerates. The solicitude of a mother speaks 
out of her. 

(Enter John.) 

All. John ! 

Col.- Where is my son ? 

John. (Quietly tho hesitating) At the Mansion. 

Col. Why don't he fly into my arms? 



44 

Prof. Have you not forbidden him this house ? Have not I 
done the same ? 

Col. Aye ! Yes, and that commandment shall remain in force 
until Lenora has followed her husband over to the 
Springhouse. Yes, make a sour face, John, if you will, 
but to-day is Lenora's Wedding ! 

John. What do I care ? ! 

Col. What ails you ? Why are you so serious and so gloomy? 
Speak out ! 

John. Not here! What I have to report [ shall tell you at 
proper quarters, in your room. 

Col. You are right. Your lamentations will come early 
enough, but be assured of this that you'll not get me in 
a bad humor to night. Neither you, Mrs. Hughes, nor 
William with all your complaints! Professor the joy of 
meeting again must not be disturbed ; Keep your word! 
I know that when he finds her a married woman all of 
William's passions will die away, and we shall have 
peace the same as the Country ! Co.oe, old Grumbler ! 
(Exeunt Colonel and John.) 

Prof Now, one word to you, my dear Kate. You must think 
my course in this business to be a very strange one, so 
let me explain to you. Sooner or later the difference 
of their religion would become the source of their dis- 
agreement, and to prevent her from being perhaps dis- 
honored she must marry. Alas ! Woman in our present 
state of Society is little better situated than she was 
when the ancient Greek poet wrote his Tragedy of Me- 
dea. Now keep this to yourself. 

Mrs. H. (crying) I will ! 

Prof, (pressing her hand) And now I go contended to see 
that all the arrangements be properly made. 
(Exit Professor.) 

Mrs. H. (alone) Where can she stay? I have given my pro- 
mise and I will not break it. My poor child is lost I 
Why should I cause her more grief? I will try to con- 
sole her, but how can I do it ? Perhaps I can tell her a 
story of his infidelity ? God grant, she has not seen him 
already ! Good Heaven, what must we suffer ! The roa- 
ring of the cannon has ceased, no more news of bloody 



45 

battles! Like a dove with the olive branch the news has 
been welcomed at every house, only in my humble cot- 
tage there is sadless grief! Would that my grey head 
would have been under the sod long ago, that I had ne- 
ver to live to see my only child broken hearted. (Exit) 

SCENE IV. Open place at the gate of the Profs, garden, as in the first act- 
Enter the returning volunteers (one carrying a tattered battle 
flag) and march over the stage. Citizens and woman rush to 
them and take from the soldiers their Knapsacks fyc which 
they carry walking along side with them. The Musi e 
plays : "Johnny is marching home". Enter Lenora hasti- 
ly running vp and down the line and looking anxiously for 
somebody. 

One Soldier. 

Look at her ! 
Another Soldier. 

(jestingly) Are you going to pick one out for yourself, 

Tittle girl ? 

(As the last Company is about leaving the stage Lenora in a wild 

shriek : 

William ! William ! — all gone, and no William ! 

(Staring out in the air, she puts her hands to her head, clutching 

her hair which is thereby loosened and drops ivildly around her 

shoulders). 

Leno. All have left now ! Even the sun leaves me ! (it is 
growing darker) Oh, how lost I feel ! (she drops down) 
Oh, he is faithless ! false ! 

( Enter Mrs. Hughes.) 

Mrs. H. Aye ! my good child, may God have Mercy upon you / 

Leno. Mercy ? ! Mercy ? ! Eaven He knows no Mercy ! 

Mrs. H. God forgive you, pray my child, a heartfelt prayer al- 
ways gives consolation. 

Leno. And havn't I prayed day and night ? Havn't I wrung 
these hands till they were sore ? Heaven is closed to 
me, my prayers don't reach there (with a wild laugh) 
I am but a poor miserable girl ! 

Mrs. H. He may have fallen on the field of battle — 

Leno. (Leaping to her feet solemnly and with confidence) No 
Mother, he has not. He swore that he would call for 
me even should death overtake him. 



46 

Mrs. H. Or perhaps he is not worthy of your true love and de^ 
spair ; perhaps he has married some southern girl and 
lives happily far away from you and perhaps is laughing 
how he could deceive you ! Drop him my child, think of 
yourself, think of your parents ! 

Leno. No! All is gone ! All is lost! With God is no more 
mercy ; with Man there never was ! A curse ! A curse 
apon me, upon you all ! 

Mrs. S. You know not what you are saying. Your own tongue 
passes Judgment upon you. Oh, be yourself and hope 
to meet him in yonder world. Don t shut the gate of 
Heaven against you, nor — 

Leno. What is Heaven ? What is [Tell ? With him, with Wil- 
liam is my Heaven, my Hell where he is not. With him 
I fear no Hell, without him I don't want your Heaven ! 
You hear that?! You hear that now? ! I don't want 
your Heaven I 

Mrs. H. Poor child! If your hopes of life are destroyed, don't 
ruin yourself for eternity ; come with me and let us see 
what a Mother's care and love can do. 
(Exeunt Leno fa leaning on the arm of Mrs. Hughes.) 

Scene V. Lenora's room in the Professor's House. 

Enter Mrs. H. and Lenorai from the other side the Professor and Richard 

Prof. The soldiers are coming home, the church bells are chi- 
ming merrily, the bridal wreath is ready to deck your 
head, in a few moments your bridegroom will lead you 
to the church! 

Rich. Father, let us wait; Lenora appears to be sick. 

Prop. I gave my word and I will keep it, (aside to Richard) 
William is at the Mansion. Before she hears of it she 
must be your wife, (mildly to Lenora) T go Lenora ; your 
mother will bring you the wreath. We leave you alone. 
Richard will then come for you. 

Rich, (aside to Lenora) I obey our father, but you shall have no 
cause of complaint. T shall respect your grief until time 
shall make V U forget the past. (Exeunt Professor and 

Richard. ) 

(It is growing dark, 

Mrs. ET. (Takes a Jong sad look at. Lenora arid as she gives no signs, Mrs. 
H. exit, making gesticulations denoting great grief . The church 
bells are heard.) 



47 

IjEVO. Who is being buried? Is it Lenora? — I thought she 
went to her wedding — Yes — in the Coffin — with 
whom ? With her William. Won't they be merry there! 
I know, if the parents were not there. Yes, we now 
have peace. On earth there will never be peace ! 

(Enter Mrs. H. with a lamp which she puts on the toilet table.) 
Mrs H. Here, Lenora, your bridegroom sends you this wreath. 
Leno. (taking it^ Yes, yes ! the wreath — 
Mrs. S Where are you Lenora ? 
Leno. Yes ! 
Mrs. H. She is mad ! Oh, how will this end? (Exit Mrs. H.) 

LENO. (Taking a position before the looking glass) It won't become 
me — my hair is waving around me so wildly — [ ! why 
not — It was a fine sight anyhow when they passed by 
— first the Officers — 

(Noto — stands for music.) 
then the soldiers —Then I stood there all alone, (taking 
the wreath and looking at it) Why, how pretty it is, but 
here ! Only one rose in it. Oh, I understand, I once 
heard a Song about a Rose. Those days were happy. 
How was that song? (rubbing her head) Oh, my memory is 
all gone for I am getting old. 

(Here music sets in with the air of ki Tho Last Rose of Summer", 
Lenora listens and at la<st she exclaims lively :) That's it! That's 

it ! That's the Song which I learned when I was vounar. 

(Sings.) 'Tis the last rose of Summer, 

Left blooming alone ; 
All her lovely companions 
Are faded and gone ; 
No flower of her kindred, 
No rosebud is nigh 
To reflect back her blushes, 
Or give sigh for sigh ! 

I'll not leave thee, thou lone ones, 
To pine on the stem : 
Since the lovely are sleeping, 
Go sleep (hen with them ; 
Thus kindly 1 scatter 
Thy leaves o'er the bed. 
Where thy mates of the garden 
Lie scentless and dead. 



48 

So soon may I follow, 
When friendships decay ; 
And from love's shining circle 
Thy gems drop away ! 
When true hearts lie withered, 
And fond ones are flown, 
Oh ! who would inhabit 
This bleak world alone ? 

(pause.) 

How beautiful the bride looks {taking a seat in a chair 
in the back ground) Now she is ready. She is waiting' 
for the bridegroom ! 

( Three slow knocks are heard at the garden gate, as in the first Act. 
At the first she is startled, at the second she eagerly listens, at the 
third she jumps from the chair,) 

Oh, Heavens ! Tis William ! Yes (wildly) it is he ! He 
promised to come for me — at the grave yard ! His 
horse is standing saddled ! (opens the window, the pale 
vision of William is seen outside) Oh, William ! And is 
it you ? ! How pale and gloomy your face looks ! ? You 
come to take me away with you. William, I am ready ! 
Your true love is ready to follow ! Oh, I cried so much 
about you ! William, they say, you were either false or 
dead, but you live and you keep your promise, so do I, 
William ! Already I have the wreath upon my head ; 
the candles are lit on the Altar ! They want to drag me 
to church ! but you are my bridegroom. Oh ! Oh ! (shi- 
vering) how cold it is, how coldly the wind blows — 
{going away from the window) Hear the jingling of his spurs! 

— Howl wind — Farewell Mother ! I fly into William's 
arms — on William's wild horse — and then away ! 
Away ! In flying canter — Away ! Farther and farther 
through the cold night, then vanish the houses — the 
meadows — the rivulets — the country — before our 
eyes — then the bridges thunder under his horse's he of 

— Away, with him to the wedding — I come William I 

— I come — (Exit Lenora.) 

SCENE VI. Enter Mrs. Hughes, Professor, Richard and Sexton 

Mns. H. Lenora? Where is the child ? 

Phof. (coming in right after her) Are you ready, my daughter? 

Mrs. H. I don't see her. I hope she did not — 



49 

(Enter Richard.) 
Rich, {interrupting Mrs. H.) The solemn hour has arrived. 
Prof. We miss Lenora ! 

(Enter the Sexton hurriedly through the middle door.) 
8exton. The}' are waiting for you at the church. 

All. Where is Lenora ? 

Sexton. I don't know whether I may venture to tell — 

Mrs. EL For God's sake speak 1 

Sexton. I was standing in the entryway waiting for you to 
come, then she rushed by me as pale as death, her eyes 
glowing. J thought she had lost her reason. 

Mk.s. fi. Yes! Yes! proceed! 

Sexton. I wanted to stop her, hut she tore loose from me, and 
cried bitterly : "Farewell old man ! I go to my wed- 
ding." Well, says I, Miss Lenora but not without a 
bridegroom, and he is inside with your father. "You 
lie !" says she, "He is waiting for me with his horse at 
the graveyard. William is there. My love to father 
and mother. I shall never come back !" Thus she 
rushed out of the door, and outside the wind was blow- 
ing, rain falling ! The weather is terrible ! 

Prof, {excitedly] Woman, you turn pale! You know of it 
speak ! What has occurred ? 

Mrs. H. (In great anxiety) Could it be possible? She told me 
a hundred times that William would elope with her 
upon his return from the war. It cannot be ! 

Prop. Shall this disgrace undo me ? 

Rtch. Such an outrage would be unheard of — 

Prof. ( Grasping his hand) Come ! come to the Mansion. To him, 
to his father! I shall call for an account and for satis- 
faction from him ! The old — 

Mrs. H. Oh ! don't blame me for it. 

Prof. Follow me ! If our honor is dear to you. tt is yet time 
that we may save them. 

(Exeunt nil.) 

SCENE VII. A graveyard, in the back ground a church id up. On the 
side is a family vault ivith iron gate's, out of which a dim light is 
appearing, next to the vault is a newly made grave. 

Enter William's Ghost followed by Lenora staggering slowly 
tnirards the edge of the crave. 



50 

Leno At last! At last! Oh, William, that was a long-, long, 
road! Now get off! Alight from your horse; here is 
the place, here is our little home, very narrow, but get 
in. Ghost vanishes) Tt is SO cold (shivering) Good night! 
Good niffht! (she sinks beside the grave and dies. Music is heard 
from the church, during which enter Colonel, John and Attendants 
coning from the Vault and carrying lanterns.) 

Col. Thank God, that's done ! The Coffin is safely deposited 
in our Vault, and soon mine will stand beside it. I will 
not weep. John, did he not die for his Country ? 

John. Cheerful}, and like a hero ! 

Col. Peace be to his ashes ! What goes on in the church ? 

One of the Attendants ; 

Why? Colonel, it is Miss Lenora's wedding : 

John, (aside) I have not yet delivered his letter to her. 

Col. Lenora's wedding? Now there need not have been so 
much hurry about it. My poor William would not have 
disturbed them. 

PROP. (Behind the scene) There he is ! 

(Enter Professor, Richard, Mrs. Hughes and Sexton.) 

Prof. Colonel ! — Man ! Where is your son ? 

Col. In the Vault ! 

All. Ah ! 

Prof. Where is Lonora ? 

John, (now seeing Lenora's corpse) Here on the grave, and Death 
was her bridegroom ! 

ALL. Lenora ! (group around her) 

John. He has come for her ! He has kept his promise and I 
will keep mine ! Here is his letter, poor girl ! (laying 

William's letter upon her body.) 

One of the Attendants : 

Now we know who ordered that grave. 
Prof. She is dead ! 
John, (with bitterness) Now close that iron gate of the Vault, so 

they cannot come together 

Cou They are united. 

Mrs. H. Oh God ! my child ! my child 1 

(Enter Miss Southworth in deep mourning and walks slowly towards 
the Colonel.) 



51 

JOHN, (aside to the Colonel) That is the one ! 

Miss S. Colonel Norwood ? (the Colonel nods) Oh, Colonel, 
have mercy on a poor distressed woman who is wretched. 
I, Colonel, come to accuse myself of having caused the 
death of jour son, your William, whom I worshiped, I 
thought at the time 1 was doing right, but I see now 
that I was sadly erring. 1 mistook treason for patrio- 
t sm. Oh, sir, I have had no peace since that dreadful 
occurance. During the days I pray that night may 
come, and during the night 1 pray that day may break; 
but the night docs not afford me the relief of a sweet 
slumber and the day has nothing to divert my mind from 
the terrible recollection. Oh, sir! there is but one hope 
left whereby to appease my guilty conscience. Oh, sir ! 
(kneeling before him) say but two words : "I forgive" 

Col. Madam, arise ! I wish not to sec an American humbled. 
You were an erring sister ; but you are a sister still 1 
Your error has been atoned for ! Let it be forgotten, 
and only the sister remembered Although, it has cost 
me my only son my only child ! Still I have malice to- 
wards none, but charity for all. From the bottom of 
my heart f forgive you. ; 'Let us have peace." 

I Pause) 
Prof. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good 

will towards men 
John, (coming to the front of the stage.) 

(Sings.) Were I but in that dark cold grave, 

I then should be at ease, — 

(pause.) 
(In a crying voice But since our William has left me, 
Death of my friends bereft me, 
Old John shall find no peace ! 

i Curtain Drops. ) 
ENT> OF ACT III. 



NOTE— The son^s on Pages 7. 22, 23 and 34 are taken from "THE 
GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC SONGSTER," and are inserted in 
this play with the kind permission of the Publisher Robbut M. DkWitt 
Esq., No. 33 Rose Street, New York. 



ni^Lftf CONGRESS 

■I flf If IIIH 

016 215 024 8 J 



